The World Cup is over. *tear*

Of course, it has been ending for a long time, in the context of the cup itself. Once you get past the quarterfinals and the games are no longer played every day, the best part is already over. The more so as the semi-finals and finals are often very tentative, at least for a while--the games mean so much that the teams are often playing not to lose rather than to win.

Which is why the 3rd place game is usually one of the best of the tournament. Certainly it was this year. After the departure of the United States from the tournament I pinned my hopes on Uruguay, and they did well--not well enough to beat the Netherlands in the semi-finals, nor Germany in the third place game, but well enough to challenge both. Not bad for a country only a little bigger than Utah in its population. Their star player Diego Forlan is my new favorite player (non-Arsenal division), and deservedly carried off the Golden Ball, awarded to the tournament's best player. From what I hear through the Internets, he is also a really good guy. Here is a little back-story on him.

Spain are champions, and deserved to be. Mostly. They are unusual--perhaps even anomalous--in their style of play, which has been described as "beautiful" by many. I think "hypnotic" might be a better word. If you like soccer you probably watched them and don't need a description, and if you don't it may be hard to get a mental picture just from a verbal description of what they do, but essentially their strategy is to pass the ball around among themselves until the other guy falls over from exhaustion and they can walk the ball into the back of the net. Their midfielders (Xavi, Andres Iniesta, Xabi Alonso) are from another planet in terms of their ability to maintain possession of the ball...a planet full of Catalonians playing keepy-uppy and drawing little triangles on the grass with their passes to each other.

But...and this is a big "but"...they had exactly one player (David Villa) who was willing to shoot the ball--an activity generally regarded as central, even crucial, to winning soccer games. Villa scored five goals. All other Spaniards scored three. Since they didn't benefit from any own goals, we can therefore conclude that Spain scored eight times in seven games. Under ordinary circumstances, one goal a game is not going to get it done for you. Spain, to their credit, got it done; and yet their style, despite its polish and technical brilliance, was curious soporific, as if they smothered each opponent with a silk pillow.

Holland, with whom they disputed the final, did not smother anyone with silk pillows. They kicked them into submission. Mark van Bommel should probably have been sent off in each and every game he played. Arjen Robben, Evil Genius, too, although for diving rather than for kicking people. Nigel de Jong should certainly have been sent off in the final for kicking Xabi Alonso in the chest; probably only an entirely understandable reluctance to see the Netherlands finish the first half with nine players kept the red cards in referee Howard Webb's pocket. Robben and Wesley Sneijder (one of the three to escape the opprobrium of a booking, and the scorer of five goals himself) are certainly geniuses with the ball, but Robben in particular tends to make his living by the dark arts.

The Germans, on the other hand, played beautifully, and that's a role reversal to raise anyone's eyebrows. The Germany-Spain semifinal was remarkable for its flowing play and general sportsmanship; there were fewer fouls (eight) in that game than yellow cards just for the Netherlands (nine, including Heitinga's second) in the final. Thomas Mueller, who is only 20 (I feel old!) won the Golden Boot as top goalscorer, and Germany's team, who are all very young, will certainly look to make their mark in Europe 2012.

So, in the end, alien metronomes seize low-scoring victory, the pantomime villains fall at the last hurdle, while the people's favorites scrum over the leftovers and go home reasonably well satisfied.